


Choices

by neoncanvas21



Category: Great Pretender (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Emotional Manipulation, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Post-Case 4: Wizard of Far East, Unrequited Love, i can't think of a different summary, the summary makes this seem funny. it's not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27784129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neoncanvas21/pseuds/neoncanvas21
Summary: On Makoto's self discovery coffee trip, he realizes he resents Laurent for his hand in every part of Makoto's life. When Laurent "happens to run into him" and confesses, Makoto sees it as an opportunity for revenge, if only he could get past his own romantic feelings for the man.Or, Makoto hasn't had therapy yet and can't handle a relationship.
Relationships: Edamura Makoto & Laurent Thierry, Edamura Makoto/Laurent Thierry
Comments: 34
Kudos: 172





	Choices

**Author's Note:**

> Perhaps ooc but I believe Makoto to be a changed man after Case 4.
> 
> Writing is hard except out of spite. Heed the tags, you’ll know where this is going.

If there’s one thing being out of the game gives him, it’s time. Time to ruminate over a good cup of coffee and people-watch for hours. Time to take in the town each coffee shop sits in, to breathe the atmosphere of normalcy and quiet. Time to analyze every part of his life up until now through new eyes, ones that see the truth, or at least whatever truth the blond asshole allowed him to know a little over a year ago.

Makoto thanks the café employee who comes by with a refill and can’t help his eyes from following them back to the counter suspiciously. He can’t help but question every interaction, can’t allow himself to get close to another person for fear of being lead on.

He still talks with others like a normal person, though somewhat limited to cafés; coffee shop small talk is safe, never delving any deeper between patrons and staff. On occasion he’ll become a regular, and the conversation slowly ventures into the past, the present, the future, goals, dreams, and wishes, and when Makoto notices himself playing right into _his_ hands again, he’s in another town the next day.

Everything up until now had been a ruse, a ploy. His life hasn’t been his own since his dad was “caught” child trafficking, or maybe even before that, when he began to instill the values of truth and justice in his impressionable young son. Makoto tries to think back, rediscover who he was before the lies and manipulation, but there doesn’t seem to be a before. Makoto doesn’t know who he is without the guiding hand of Laurent Thierry, only now he’s cursed with the knowledge of it’s hold.

He anticipates Laurent’s hand in everything, from the bus driver to the waiter, from the lady who cleans his hotel room to the beggar on the street corner. It’s reasonable, after all, that’s exactly what Laurent and Ozaki did for the majority of his life. He tries to think back to who he was before their influence, but Makoto’s earliest memories are that of his parents, of looking up to his father. Following the values his father instilled in him like a religion, and for what, for them just to see what it would take for him to break? Laurent pushing him over lines he swore he would never cross, and once he’d gone forward there was no going back. He tried so hard to go back every time, until Laurent swooped in to push him over the next line.

He is despicable, irredeemable, but at least it wasn’t his choice. Blaming others for one’s problems is childish, but in this case he feels pretty confident that who he is is not his fault.

He’s the carefully constructed product of one man’s decade long revenge. A necessary casualty for the greater good, avenging the death of a stranger who knew the risks.

They haven’t spoken in months, yet his thoughts revolve around the two assholes, who have undoubtedly left “retirement” and moved onto their next cons.

As he sips his latte and watches people come and go about their normal lives, he waits for Laurent to show up and whisk him away again.

\---

The group has meet ups and their own group chat (which Makoto has muted, since every time he deletes it they just remake it). Do they really have nothing better to do? Too rich and bored with the easy life, they need to make things harder for themselves—for him?

They get together like a damn class reunion and reminisce, like their time together was all fun and games. Makoto knows at least some of those jobs were painful for some of them, courtesy of Laurent prying at old wounds, and he can’t imagine wanting to relive the memories with people who were technically coworkers—no, independent contractors. After all, they weren’t a team, right? Makoto seems to be the only one actually abiding by their so-called rules, and has cut ties as much as he could.

He hasn’t seen them for a year and two months, and Makoto marks the end of each day with a sigh of relief.

He’s pulling from a gacha machine outside a convenience store in the little town of Kinko, ready to head to today’s café, when he pauses and frowns at the figurine in his hand. A crow. A bad omen.

He makes his way to his intended coffee stop for today anyways, successfully orders a simple Americano, and lets out an uneasy breath as he sits. He won’t let superstition bother him.

“Edamame! What a surprise to find you here.”

He looks over the lip of his cup and wants to flick his wrist, fling the steaming coffee at the man who sits down across from him, uninvited.

He’d just gotten his coffee! He’d paid for this! He considers going up to the counter to ask for a to-go cup, but that would give Laurent time to catch up, so he stands abruptly and leaves, not looking back at the man calling after him.

\---

“Again? What are the odds? Is this seat taken?”

\---

“I just had the most delightful time at the onsen near here, perhaps you’d like to come with me next time?”

\---

“We missed you at our last meet up, at this rate we’re going to have to start coming to you!”

At that Makoto glances over at the man taking a seat across him, and narrows his eyes in suspicion. It’s not an empty threat; they’ve been having reunions constantly. He knows, courtesy of the fact that he still texts Abby, if texting could be considered only sending photos of them flipping each other off. She doesn’t invite him, doesn’t pester him, but he can see the others in the background sometimes. Chasing Makoto down from town to town is the kind of game they’d get their kicks playing.

“What do you want?”

“He speaks!”

“What do you want?”

“What, an old friend can’t just want to catch up?” Makoto’s eyes narrow at the word _friend_ before he takes another sip of his coffee and looks out the window, content to ignore the other man if he won’t skip the small talk and get to the point. He won’t feign politeness, not after a week of blatantly ignoring him.

“What if I said I was here on a job? Waiting around for a big fishing tycoon to make his annual trip to give speeches to the lower ranks, so I can show up as a familiar face in Tokyo in three months at a poker game with said big fish?”

“Weak,” Makoto calls out. “You can’t possibly expect me to believe that you just happen to run into me in rural Japan, in as inconvenient a town to reach as this, for any reason other than to recruit me for some job. Out with it, who’s the mark and how do you plan to screw me over this time?”

Laurent sighs dramatically. “No mark and no job. Believe me or not, but I did actually want to catch up. I missed you.” At that Makoto raises a brow and sends the man a disbelieving look. “Can I at least join you for coffee?”

 _No_ is on the tip of Makoto’s tongue, but he’s been chased down so many times he knows it would only delay the inevitable. He might as well get this over with, so with a resigned sigh, he nods.

“I knew you couldn’t resist me, Edamame! So, care to hear about the adventures I got into post-retirement?”

“No, but you’re going to tell me anyways,” he grumbles.

Laurent grins and begins to tell the tale of how he fulfilled his childhood dream of becoming a diplomat, and Makoto listens enviously. How nice, that Laurent’s life is so damn good right now, after he spent years ruining his.

\---

Makoto’s moved onto the next town over on his coffee trip, crossing the bay to Ibusuki, and futilely prays that running into Laurent in Kinko was a coincidence, that the other man had truly just run into him and was going his separate way. He will _not_ let Laurent upset his life again.

He’s been sitting here for a little over an hour now, tense, _waiting_ , when the inevitable happens.

“You can stop _this_ ,” he sighs, gesturing up and down the other man who has two coffees in his hand. “And you don’t need to butter me up—haven’t needed to since L.A., or since ever, I suppose, since I was destined to join you.” He takes the coffee anyways, ignores the certainty he feels that the drink is drugged, knows of at least several concoctions that could be dissolved in it without a trace, and takes a sip. If Laurent wanted to do anything to him, he wouldn’t see it coming. “Out with it, what do you want?”

“Is it not enough for me to enjoy your company?”

“Do you want me to play along or can we skip the game and cut to the chase?” He really, really doesn’t want to play the game. He’s so tired.

“I like you, Makoto.” The use of his first name startles him and draws his gaze to meet the other man’s—he didn’t know Laurent knew it—before irritation rises at its use. He’d never given Laurent permission to call him so familiarly. “Now that Dorothy rests, I want to move on. I tried the subtle approach, but you are absolutely oblivious to the common technique of flirting, so instead here I sit, being upfront and confessing in the least romantic way possible,” he pouts. “I like you. Why do you think I kept dragging you into the game?”

Because his father knew his son. Because they needed someone Japanese and young enough to endear themselves with Suzaku Akemi. Because with his reputation tarnished before it could even begin, courtesy of said father, he was an easy target to shape and mold into someone she would enjoy. Because with his mother bedridden and then gone, no one was left to care about the fall of one man.

He can’t believe it. The blond bastard had _liked_ him the whole time? _That_ is how he treats people he likes?

“I—Give me a chance to process this,” he says, standing up.

Surprisingly, Laurent lets him go.

He lies on his bed and stares at the hotel ceiling, waiting for his racing heart to calm and the blush that rose in the café to fade from his face. Makoto may have had feelings for Laurent once upon a time in Los Angeles, but the naïve kid who was swept up into the international con business is gone, and he won’t be played again so easily.

He sits up abruptly, realizing that he’s been handed an opportunity to exploit, and the naïve kid even gets his wish. Laurent, for once in the long, long time that Makoto has known him, is vulnerable. _Makoto_ gets to decide what’s next for the other man, not the other way around.

He’s not above using love to his advantage, knows the way it makes people weak and irrational.

(He’s not above anything anymore. The moment he convinced himself to continue being a child trafficker, despite the deaths of Abby, Cynthia, and even his father, indicating that the con was over, it was the beginning of the end. Though the others would commend him for playing the part, it was _real_ for him. This is really him.)

A sharp grin spreads across his face, and the beginnings of a plan start to form in his head. Everything was for Laurent’s lover. This time will be too. He can’t wait to see the look on his face.

\---

Laurent’s already waiting for him when he arrives at the same café as yesterday, having spent the rest of the day and night analyzing as many possibilities, his responses, what’s believable. Laurent knows Makoto well enough to account for, expect even, Makoto’s gut reactions and impulse decisions. But that was the Makoto before the yakuza. Now, he just has to be who he was.

“Look, I want to make a few things clear,” he starts with no preamble, sitting across from Laurent, who’d already ordered him a drink. “I’ve never dated another guy before, and it’s been years since I’ve been in a relationship. Plus right now you are at most literally a work acquaintance. Before I could even think about you romantically, I want to get to know you better. I want to take it slow.”

It’s a yes in Makoto-speak. It’s a safe starting point; not quite head over heels, since that would be uncharacteristic and suspicious, and still carrying the annoyance Laurent knows Makoto harbors towards him, but willing to give the man a chance, despite everything.

Laurent winks at him with a knowing smile. “Believe me, I am fine with going slow.”

Makoto sighs, “Alright then. Does this mean you’re going to just tag along on my travels?”

“Of course, though if you could do me the pleasure of having dinner with me tonight, we might speed up the process a bit.”

“I’m not sleeping with you.”

“I wasn’t implying that you would.”

“Please, don’t think I don’t know how you operate. We’ve worked together long enough. Dinner, drinks, compliments and suave conversation, then back to your place.”

“That’s only for jobs, Edamame. You’re not a job.” After a beat he smirks, “I’m taking that as a yes for dinner tonight?” Makoto hmphs and takes a sip of his coffee to muffle his agreement, ignoring Laurent’s growing grin.

“So,” Laurent singsongs as he walks Makoto to his hotel room after a dinner with no drinks nor suave conversation. “I walked you to your house, can I get a goodnight kiss?” He laughs at the glare Makoto shoots him on impulse and Makoto sighs, exhausted. How long will he be able to keep this up?

“Goodnight, Laurent.”

\---

They’re…together, in some way. Makoto lets him tag along on his cross-country coffee trip without complaint and they go to coffee shops together. Makoto is too scared to make small talk like he used to, unsure if he’ll be able to keep up the ruse if others get involved, even only temporarily, so he just stares out the window and people watches, or sometimes will bring a book. Laurent’s taking the whole take-it-slow order seriously, and is somehow content with brief snippets of idle conversation with him while he draws in his sketchbook.

Makoto is sure to portray some semblance of who he was before, in little gestures. Helping an old lady find something at the grocery store, paying for coffee and food for someone with a particularly sob story begging outside the cafés they go to. He knows he’s being watched. Laurent loves his kindness, his bleeding heart that killed him.

They do get dinner, at first only weekly, though it quickly became daily, and Makoto indulges him with actual conversation then. Each day he opens up more with the other man, a smile here, a laugh there, and plays the part of growing fond, falling in love. A small part of him wonders at how easy it is, to enjoy his smile, his wit, his charisma. How it’s him who leans in one night after Laurent walks him to his separate hotel room, to give the man a chaste kiss, his face red.

When they’re apart he reminds himself of the reality, of what Laurent has done to him despite loving him, what he has _done_ for love.

He keeps himself focused, as he slowly strings Laurent along, by imaging the various ways he could make the other hurt, give him a taste of the turmoil he put him through, the breaking of his character.

Hit him in his wallet, which must be enormous by now? Except Laurent knows how to get the sum back and more, might take it as a twisted game between them. Physical torture, or death? He tries to play it out, with Laurent tied up to a chair in an abandoned warehouse, face and body bloody and broken after setting him up, putting him back in the sight of the yakuza and their lethal interrogation techniques. That line of thought feels macabre, but he was a gangster, so wouldn’t it be fitting? He dismisses it though, it’s not quite right.

As intelligent as he is, for all his understanding of others and how they will act—of how Makoto will act—Laurent is a man of emotion, of love and devotion. It is driving force, a strength for Laurent to draw from. Makoto’s own life is the product of that devotion.

It would be fitting, to turn it into a weakness, like it is for everyone else.

He considers the elaborate version, slowly roping Ozaki in to pay too, the one that takes years—they’re happily married and domestic, and he’s reconciled with his dirt bag of a father, when Makoto strikes. It’s only fair that they get as good as they give.

But Makoto is tired, so tired of lives being played with, his life being played with, and impatient. He wants closure. A tiny part of him wonders if even this, his own desire for revenge, is something fabricated by the man who claims to love him. It would drive him crazy, that even this is not his own will, but he wouldn’t be surprised.

Once he’s done this, he can move onto Ozaki separately, maybe trail down some information to make sure none of the others truly weren’t orchestrating his life the way Laurent and Ozaki are.

\---

They’re dating, maybe.

From what Ozaki had described of Dorothy and Laurent’s relationship, it seemed that Laurent liked the chase, so that’s what Makoto gives him. They’ve been teetering on the line of friends with benefits and a romantic relationship for months now, having gotten past the initial begrudging falling in love stage. Neither has brought up what they are, and Makoto is content to let it go unspoken until Laurent wants to call them more.

Hell, they’re sharing a house right now, settling down in Sendai after a months-long coffee tour of Japan, and Laurent will still let him dance around the subject. Yet though he won’t admit it, they’ve reached couple status.

They have their first argument, as couples do, and it nearly derails his entire plan.

“What’s something you love about me?” Laurent asks, looking up from his phone. They’re both lying in bed on their phones, wasting the morning away before their afternoon café date.

“Who wants to know? And it’s nothing, because there’s not a single thing.” Makoto mutters the second half under his breath.

“What? I need a better answer than that,” Laurent whines, having heard his snide remarks. “The gang wants to know what you could possibly see in as arrogant, womanizing, heartless, and frankly awful a man as me.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth.”

“I was quoting Cynthia, which you would know if you actually looked at our group chat, by the way.”

“I’m not going to pretend that I’m friends with everyone.”

“You’re friends with Abby.”

“I told you to stay away from my phone.”

“She’s the one that told me that, actually, and you still aren’t answering the question! What, is it really that hard to think of something? Or is your real answer embarrassing?” he asks in a teasing tone.

“Fine, it’s your eyes,” Makoto says. “They fucking see right through me,” he mutters, and once again Laurent catches it.

“Perfect! Edamame loves my chiseled jawline, rugged good looks, captivating eyes, and incredible personality,” he voices as he types. Makoto can’t help the groan that escapes and wonders if this a sign for how today is going to go. Laurent seems to be in a more insufferable mood than usual.

“And although you aren’t asking, something I love about you is your noble, infallible heart of gold.”

Yes, that was a sign.

“Well, clearly it _is_ fallible. Did you notice when I was content to stay with the yakuza and sell children?” The bitter words come out before he can think, and his heart rate escalates. This is why they never told him anything! He slipped up like an idiot, proving their point again.

They hadn’t broached the topic of their last con, or any of the cons they had together, as Laurent seemed to sense it was a sore subject for him. But Makoto had brought it up and now he has to play this out, otherwise Laurent will keep digging until the matter’s settled.

“That was part of the plan,” Laurent placates. “You’re still you, you still have a good heart.”

“Not that I knew it was the plan. It’s not deep cover if I don’t know I’m still undercover!”

“It all worked out in the end, though.”

“ _So what_?” Makoto yells. “It doesn’t change what I went through. You were once again playing me, leaving me out of the loop just so I could be genuine.” He’s aware he really should be more careful with his words, make sure he’s not saying anything, implying anything awry enough to tip Laurent off, but he’s been bottling it up for so long the release is cathartic. Screw the plan.

“Sometimes I wonder if anything in my life ever happened without you pulling the strings. Did you plant rumors, coincidental reminders of my father’s misdeeds every time I got picked out of a stack of resumes for an interview? Did you plant Kudo to hire me so I could immediately go to jail and ruin my job prospects for the rest of my life? I should’ve known getting caught by the cops was too quick to be a coincidence, were they even real cops—?”

“Edamame—”

“Do you even love me, or is this the set up for something else?”

“Makoto,” he takes Makoto’s hands and his gaze bores into him. His eyes are serious, and Makoto hates how they see into him. He takes a calming breath, realizing he’s gotten hysterical. “I didn’t know this weighed so heavily on you. I swear I had no part in whatever happened between you and Kudo.” Makoto doesn’t believe that for a second, has gone over every aspect of his life enough times to know Laurent’s hand was there somewhere. “You were never cut out to be a confidence man, it was wrong to bring you into this life. You feel so deeply, you care so much. I love that about you. You don’t have a selfish bone in your body, as much as you like to pretend. It’s what drew me to you in the first place. I love you, I love you more than you could imagine.”

Makoto sighs, weary.

“Did I ever have a choice? I want to have a choice.”

“You have a choice now.”

He wonders at that. His desire drives him with such ferocity it sometimes doesn’t feel like one, yet despite how close this conversation is to the root of his evil, his choice is to continue his plan, and love this man.

He is so close.

Luckily, also as couples do, they make up after their argument with sex instead of words.

He pants encouraging, wanting nonsense up to the man above him, who leans down for a kiss. Holding back a grimace, he reciprocates eagerly, moaning into Laurent’s mouth.

And they didn’t trust him because of his acting. All this, because he couldn’t act. (He’d looked up the price of acting lessons in a fit of anger one day, and he still doesn’t understand why that was less appealing than everything they did to him.)

He comes, envisioning Laurent’s devastated expression when he finally betrays him, and grins up at the man.

“I love you.”

\---

Tonight’s the night. They spent the day doing whatever Makoto wanted, went out to eat at Makoto’s favorite restaurant for dinner, Laurent is so good to indulge him, and now the switchblade sits under his pillow.

He’d considered doing it in his sleep, or other, less personally dooming ways of killing the other man. But poison, dying of ‘natural’ causes, is too easy, undeserving of the man below him, moaning into the kiss as Makoto grabs a fistful of Laurent’s hair in one hand, the other reaching behind his head to the hidden weapon.

He’s practiced this moment, knows the speed of the release, the length of the blade exactly, the weight of it in his palm.

He wants to see it play out on his face, wants to take in every detail.

“What are you doing, Edamame?” His tone is surprised, suspicious, the grating nickname coming out even as the cold blade rests against his throat. He’s infuriating.

“Exactly what it looks like. This is the second time I’ve gotten one over you,” he grins. “You really aren’t as good as you think you are.”

“I don’t understand—”

“I said my piece two years ago. That was not an act, it’s how I was so convincing. I _am_ such a shitty actor, you know.” He won’t waste time with speeches, get overwhelmed with emotion and sloppy, give Laurent a chance to recover. If he doesn’t remember his tirade then repeating it now won’t make a difference. Laurent gulps around the blade, and his lack of confusion shows that he knows exactly what Makoto’s talking about.

“This isn’t you—”

“Yes it is,” he hisses. “You _made_ me this way. You groomed me. Maybe not in an intentionally sexual way, but,” he gestures to where he sits, naked on Laurent’s bare chest. “If the shoe fits.” He runs the dull side of the blade down the other man’s neck, reveling in the shiver it earns him. He cannot give Laurent even an inch, because the man knows how to take care of himself and will switch their positions in an instant if he does. It’s only thanks to their relationship that Makoto’s able to catch him this off-guard, and he can’t help the manic grin from growing on his face. It gives him the same thrill that threatening him and Ozaki with the sword did. He will savor this.

“This wasn’t part of the original plan,” he admits, pressing the blade into Laurent’s skin and noting a little welling of blood. “But it wouldn’t be a plan if silly Edamame didn’t derail it with my big, soft, bleeding heart. I realized this couldn’t just stop at breaking your heart. I, of all people, know you are _vengeful_. Can’t spend the rest of my life watching over my shoulder for you.”

“Makoto, you don’t understand the consequences of murder,” Laurent’s voice is serious, calm even, despite his situation. It makes Makoto seethe. He’d gotten five seconds of Laurent thrown off, and somehow he was back in control, like always. “It’s a line we do not cross for a reason.”

“Don’t even try with your so-called rules,” he spits. “And what’s more prison?” he laughs. “Maybe those first two times were you just preparing me for the _big_ one, the important one. You do have the habit…”

“This will change you, there’s no going back.”

“There never has been. You made sure of that.”

Laurent’s not panicking enough, desperate enough. He should be begging for mercy, confused and distraught. Instead he’s resigned, accepting of his fate. His face, save for his worried eyes, almost looks content.

Makoto reels back at the thought that somehow, his deep-seated worries were right and this is all part of Laurent’s plan again. Is he so guilty that he welcomes death by Makoto’s hand? Has he known the whole time, and he just wanted some sex while Makoto pulled his pieces of the plan together? One final way to ruin Makoto’s life, sentencing the rest of it to rot in prison?

“Stop doing this!” he shouts, leaning in close to Laurent’s face. “You can’t keep manipulating me!”

“What are you talking about?” Laurent’s tone starts to rise, matching his frightened eyes. “Please, Makoto just calm do—”

“Do you want to die? You bastard, is this another _game_? No, no I am deciding this! Me!” He refuses to try to get into Laurent’s head. It doesn’t matter what he wants, this is what _Makoto_ wants.

Laurent gasps as the weight of the knife pressing in sinks deeper.

“ _Makoto,_ _I love you_.”

“Say hello to _Dorothy_ for me,” he spits.

\---

He pleads guilty for manslaughter and possession of drugs, a distraught lover intending to spice up their sex life, instead panicking while hallucinating on illegal drugs, according to the half-empty pill bottle on their bedroom floor and a urine test. He thought it was self-defense, but it was an accident, he swears, breaking down in the courtroom.

It’s not a life sentence, and with good behavior he’ll be out when Ozaki’s an old man, vulnerable if not dead from natural causes already. He settles in on a bed within familiar walls, closes his eyes, and forgives himself.


End file.
